


Paradise Lust

by Sheepyboy



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: 18th Century, Age of Sail, Awkward Sexual Situations, Boats and Ships, British, British Empire, Colonialism, Embarrassment, Exploration, F/M, Falling In Love, Historical, Historical Fantasy, Historical Figures, Historical References, Interracial Relationship, Military Uniforms, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Period Typical Attitudes, References to Polynesian Religion & Lore, Relationship Advice, Repression, Seduction, Sexual Content, Sexual Repression, Shyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepyboy/pseuds/Sheepyboy
Summary: More historic erotica from my old GeoCities archives. A fic about the British explorer Captain James Cook. The 1988 Australian miniseries about him starring Keith Michell partly inspired this fic too.
Relationships: James Cook(1728-1779)/Original Female character(s)
Kudos: 3





	Paradise Lust

**Author's Note:**

> According to official notes, the good Captain always remained faithful to his wife Elizabeth despite being apart for years, and with the temptations of the South Pacific. Whilst honourable, that doesn’t make for very exciting erotic fanfiction. And we don’t know for certain what he got up to, seeing as his wife burnt all his letters after his death. So I took a few liberties here.

June 2nd 1769

The volcanic sands of Tahiti were boiling hot in the glare of the June sun. Cool and green and rolling came the sea, scattering the tiny shells of dead and dying creatures on the strand. The Endeavour at anchor, rocked lazily in the Pacific breeze. The sky was clear, and it looked like conditions would be perfect for tomorrow’s transit of Venus. Because of the rarity of the event, it was important to take accurate records. The next transit would not occur until 1874. Along the sleepy beach came a cat’s paw of warm wind stirring the boughs of the palm trees.

Captain James Cook and his men had set up an observatory on shore. He required a completely stable platform which the Endeavour could not provide and plenty of space to work with. The location of the observatory would be known as "Fort Venus." A sandy spit on the northeast end of Matavai Bay provided the ideal spot. The men had worked quickly, though not as fast as they would have done had they not been seduced by the charms of the local women, Cook remarked.

There was still much to be done. Captain Cook returned to the ship, seeking the solace of his cabin. He needed peace, quiet reflection. The island and its beautiful dark-skinned natives were proving an uncomfortable distraction and he was struggling to resist. The cabin was cooler than the fort’s tent, yet as he sat down to write in his journal about the important scientific work, he found his mind wandering. The ceaseless undulation of surf, the sun-gilded relentlessness of incoming breakers, and the smooth liquid curve to the far horizon brought him not any sense of peace, but frustration. He put down the quill pen. Raucous laughter was coming from outside. Even out here there was no escape from the noise. Cook peered out of the cabin window and observed the beach through his spyglass. There on the sand, without an ounce of shame stood his third lieutenant John Gore, shirtless, shoeless and cavorting with one of the Tahitian women who was nude save for a very flimsy pareo. Another woman, naked, giggling and high-spirited appeared and took turns kissing Gore, touching with him languorous pleasure, completely uninhibited. Cook watched, fascinated. The arrival at this island had been an eye-opener in more ways than one. Never in his life had he witnessed a people so free, happy and unburdened. Such behaviour would be positively obscene back in England.

The first woman had quickly relieved Gore of his breeches and proceeded to kneel before him. What she did next stunned the Captain.

“Good God!” Cook exclaimed. He’d never seen a woman perform such an act before. Certainly he could never imagine his wife doing anything so bold. On the rare occasions he’d been at home they had always made love. Elizabeth was always willing, but not adventurous in bed.

“My Lord, she would be horrified if I were to suggest she do that,” he mused, hating himself for the twinge in his groin. “Oh my Elizabeth,” he sighed. It seemed like an eternity since he’d last embraced her. Meanwhile John Gore had gestured for the second woman to lie on her back. Without hesitation, she obeyed, Gore placed her legs on his shoulders and buried his face between her thighs. She writhed and screamed in pleasure as the eager lieutenant worked his tongue up her slit, then sucking on her lips, first one, then the other, drawing them into his mouth.

Captain Cook felt the arousal assaulting his groin again. This time he did not try to suppress it. He could feel his face flushing. This place must feel like heaven on earth to his sex-starved crewmen. As soon as the transit of Venus passed they would have to leave, but would they be willing to leave this hedonistic paradise?

John Gore had ceased his oral administrations and was now fucking the beautiful young native with the vigour of a wild beast. Unable to watch any more, Cook stepped away from the window. He was painfully hard as he sat down; the tight breeches of his uniform even more uncomfortably so than normal.

A knock on the cabin door jolted him to his senses.

“Damn,” Cook muttered. He had given strict orders not to be disturbed. Trying to compose himself, he stood up, grabbed his hat and held it strategically in front to hide his arousal.

“Come in.”

When no-one was forthcoming, he uttered, “I said I come in.” Still nothing.

Cook marched over to the door and opened it. When he saw her stood there, his heart stopped for just a moment and he had to force himself to begin breathing one more time. His gaze drifted slowly down the length of her body. One of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Cook didn’t mean to stare of course, and averted his eyes quickly.

“Those blasted Marines,” he thought as he wondered how he was going to get out of this potentially awkward situation. His orders not to keep inviting the native women on board Endeavour had obviously been ignored. The Tahitians were fascinated by the ship; certainly every inch and crevice of it held an air of wonder to them.

He nodded to the dark-skinned beauty stood before him, wishing he had John Gore’s grasp of the Tahitian language right now. How could this have happened? Ever since their arrival, Cook had kept his distance from the native women. He had politely declined Queen Oberea’s invitation to engage in some unblushing copulation, much to the amusement of his crew. During the welcoming ceremony he’d sat there calmly as the smiling, nude girls had danced just feet away. His fellow officers were practically salivating like dogs on heat, but he’d managed to retain his composure – just. Secretly, he was in turmoil and was grateful to retire to the privacy of his sleeping quarters, to seek relief; it was most unbecoming to almost spend in one’s breeches. It was almost as if fate had set up this encounter.

“Good day to you Miss,” he uttered at last, wanting to assure her that he meant no harm. Naturally, she didn’t get a word he was saying, but it didn’t matter. She’d made up her mind before boarding the ship that she wanted him. The young beauty smiled, her dark eyes slowly searching his.

“Ia Orana,” which he figured was a hello.

“What are you doing here?” Cook asked. He tried to make her understand.

“Eaha?”

She grinned coquettishly and offered him a hibiscus flower.

“Ah.” He had no choice but to accept it and beckon her into the cabin, shutting the door. Cook couldn’t remember a time he’d felt as embarrassed as this. For a moment she just stared at him, then reached forward and gently kissed his cheek. He blushed and his erection throbbed.

“Forgive me Elizabeth,” he thought, but any feelings of guilt quickly evaporated when the woman’s warm arms wrapped around him. He was a long way from home, and he was only human after all. James Cook, England’s great explorer, had finally succumbed to the south Pacific’s temptations. Her warm hands produced a frisson of electricity that he’d never felt before. His hat fell from his hand. As the woman’s eyes swept up over his body from the floor, she had a further reason to be pleased. Her curious gaze assessed the impressive bulge contained behind the smooth fabric of his tight, cream breeches. Then all at once, she raised her hands to the pareo she was wearing. The fabric fell to the floor and she stood coyly, her right hand placed upon her lower belly, one leg slightly flexed.

The woman was as naked as a nymph and as beautiful as any woman he had ever seen. Her luscious, raven hair fell down her back. The soft, dark flesh of her body was flawless and her small, pert breasts were tipped with gloriously erect nipples, high and firm, a luscious promise of touch and taste awaiting him. Cook felt himself lick his lips in anticipation. Her hand placed on her lower belly appeared to cover her sex but, in fact, only served to draw attention to it, and he realized, with a sudden jolt of desire that shot through him to find a resting place in his already heated groin, that she was in fact rubbing gently with her fingers amongst the dark curls of her mons.

Reaching her, he placed a hand on the curve of her perfect rump, she merely shivered and gasped prettily. Encouraged, he allowed his fingers to glide down the crease until he felt them slip into the soft, moist, hair-fringed cleft below. Her body smelt wonderful, of fruit and flowers, but an aroma of another more primal scent was filling his nostrils. He raised his fingers, damp from her juices, to his face, inhaled and licked.

At this, the Tahitian beauty turned and moved to the chair by his writing desk. Wordlessly, she sat down and raised one leg to rest upon the arm, opening herself out wantonly to his vision and running her own fingers lightly over her now swollen snatch. Holding out her moistened palm, she extended her fragrance to him and the captain followed, mesmerized, falling to his knees and parting her lips with his thumbs to stare at the forbidden image of her cunny. Burying his head in that most hallowed of grails as he had witnessed John Gore do earlier, Cook’s tongue lapped and drank to his delight as the beauty wriggled and moaned in pleasure at his attention. He invaded her with first one finger, then another. She giggled in delight and merely rubbed her clit before his eyes until she became aroused to the most wild and frantic state that he had ever seen in a woman in his life.

It was a most astonishing scene of female pleasure, one he had never before witnessed in past couplings with his wife, who always expected him to take the lead and he had simply got the job done, as any man would. Unable to control his ardour, he stood and removed his jacket, dragged at his waistcoat and shirt, fumbled with the buttons on his breeches and, dropping them to the floor, wrenched off his silken stockings and shoes. Naked before her, his willing admirer leaned forward and lowered her lips to his cock. The touch of her tongue made him groan, and the desire to spurt his essence over her face possessed him, a raging desire such as he had never known before.

As her small hand cupped his balls, her mouth encompassed his girth and began to cover it with feathery kisses and long, lingual strokes. Pleasure coursed through Cook, dancing lights flittered across his eyelids, every nerve ending in his body shot out arrows of pure sensation, and his whole being became focused on the blood-engorged organ of his virility, played to perfection by this beautiful temptress. Yet she meant this first encounter to end in a joyous coupling, not a swallowing of his gift.

With a deft movement, she eased herself from him, sank to the cabin floor, and offered him to lie between her satin thighs. Cook fell to his knees and then upon her. She raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist. In that most deep of postures, he entered her and thrust fast and hard, unable to stay his desire to ram and heave as if he were a vessel and she some Terra incognita. Burying his head against her sweet smelling neck, intoxicated by her feminine perfection, his moans began to rise, as did the speed of his flight across her ocean.

His lover felt the wild surging deep within her womb and cried out to him to take her, love her, fill her with his seed. Her erotic encouragement only made Cook more determined and he held her down as he made his final breach, flooding her walls with his cum, hot and thick, whilst her wild cries rang in his ears as she came. Long moments passed as their heart rates eased and sensibility returned as they lay naked and sex-drenched, on the Endeavour’s cabin floor.

James Cook murmured out his gratitude as he gently stroked his lover’s hair, even if she didn’t understand English, he felt the need to tell her anyway.

“I cannot put into words the pleasure afforded by your magnificent body. Never in my whole experience in the matters of the flesh have I known such wonders existed. I will never forget this day or the honour you have bestowed upon me.”

“Maururu, Uua here vau ia oe, Captain,” she replied.

Captain James Cook’s sleep wasn’t often disturbed but this night was different. His mind was buzzing with his encounter with the stunning Tahitian woman. Oh, she was so beautiful! The way she looked at him when he had kissed and licked the soft folds of her womanhood. Her flawless dark skin. He moaned as he remembered her mouth on his cock, her tongue teasing him, thrilling him beyond measure. A low groan slipped from his throat as he unfastened his breeches and gripped his shaft, stroking it rapidly. His fingers were soon slick with precum and he felt his release building, hot and urgent, the sensation was rendering him unable to breathe. “Oh God!” His cock jerked in his hand and a streak of cum shot across his stomach. Finally, he was able to breathe again.

Next morning he stood on the deck of the Endeavour. The rhythms of the sea were usually all he needed to feel at ease. He had already travelled a great deal further than most men would in an entire lifetime. Throughout this long voyage to the south Pacific, he’d sought to maintain many things. A strong level of discipline and control. A sound and healthy crew. A clean ship that was free from scurvy that was the bane of many a sailor’s life. He’d mapped coastlines with pinpoint accuracy. But most important of all, James Cook had insisted that native peoples he encountered were to be treated with utmost respect.

High on silent pinions, shining white, three sea gulls flew northward from the distant palm trees, at first paralleling the shoreline. Then they soared over Matavai Bay and wheeled across the sky.

He couldn’t get her out of his head. The beautiful Tahitian woman was so deeply seared in his mind that tonight’s transit of Venus seemed nothing more than a trivial distraction.

He faced the sea again.

Incoming breakers broke, spilling shatters of foam on the sand. He watched the waves as a willing subject might watch a hypnotist’s pendant swinging on a silver chain.

Cook was racked with guilt and lust. He’d cheated on his wife – there was no getting away from that. But his mind and body had been exposed to sexual pleasures he never could’ve imagined until now. He wanted more, but he needed advice. With whom could he confide in such matters? Taciturn almost to the point of silence, the captain wasn’t known for small talk. The insufferable aristocrat Joseph Banks wouldn’t be a good listener either.

Cook glanced round. There was but one person he could place his trust in – John Gore. The loyal lieutenant had been a constant and reliable presence from the very beginning. Yet his outlook on life was very different from his own. Born in the colony of Virginia, he had already circumnavigated the globe twice whilst aboard HMS Dolphin. Having visited Tahiti previously, Gore had become valuable to Cook for his knowledge of the island and his ability to speak the native language. A happy-go-lucky man, he didn’t concern himself with worrying about disease, death or that European contact would mean irreversible changes to the Polynesians’ way of life.

John Gore approached the captain. “Ah, sir! I just thought you’d like to know that we’re all set. Everything is ready for the transit. The observatory has been carefully prepared. I’ve led a group of thirty-eight men to the neighbouring island and Dr Solander thinks conditions will be perfect.”

“Yes. Well, that’s good to know,” Cook replied. Gore noted that the captain’s enthusiasm had waned somewhat. There was a change in the man that he couldn’t fathom. Something was on his mind. Ever since yesterday, he’d appeared to be greatly distracted.

“Sir? Might I enquire as to what is troubling you?”

“You may Mr Gore, you may. As it happens, I have a need to discuss with you a matter of the most delicate persuasion.”

Noticing Cook’s discomfort, Gore nodded. “Understood sir. Anything you say to me will be in the strictest confidence. You have my word.”

“Thankyou Mr Gore. Well it’s not a subject I find easy to talk about. I’ve always been a man who prefers to keep his feelings to himself. I’m a self-made man as you know, with humble beginnings. I didn’t have friends in high society to further my cause. Had I had the luxury of mixing in such circles as a younger man I may have…er, gained the necessary experience.”

John Gore listened patiently. “What experience do you speak of, sir?”

Cook felt himself starting to blush. “With women.”

Women? This conversation was suddenly becoming a lot more interesting, Gore thought.

“Tell me, do you have a sweetheart waiting for you back in England?”

“Quite a few,” Gore replied with a laugh. “One can’t have too many.” He paused. His reputation as a womanizer was well-known. “A weakness of mine.”

“You don’t see yourself getting married any time soon then?” Cook asked.

“Certainly I don’t see it happening, not for many years yet,” Gore smiled. “Although here in glorious Tahiti one is spoilt for choice, forgive my candour, sir. Any of the fine beauties I’ve met on this island I would happily ask to become Mrs Gore!”

Cook had already seen for himself Gore’s skills with the native women yesterday. “The women…have you…um,” he spluttered.

“I have made love to four of them since we arrived. Two at the same time!”

Cook’s eyes widened. “I see.”

“My, but the simple offering of a nail seems so poor a token for what they give in return. As generous with sexual favours as they are in offering us food and welcome ceremonies. Truly I feel blessed to have lain with such beautiful women.”

Cook cleared his throat, embarrassed to feel himself growing hard. “I may not always show it but I rely on your advice far more than you know and right now, I am in turmoil and desperately need your help."

“I am willing to help you with anything that you need,” Gore replied.

Cook took a deep breath. “Yesterday afternoon, I had the privilege of coupling with one of them.”

John Gore did a double take. “You did? You had sex with a native woman?”

The captain shushed him quickly, glancing round to check no other crewmembers were nearby.

“Forgive me sir! It’s just that…well it’s not something I expected you to say. I mean er, you’ve always been so engrossed in your work and everything.”

“And loyal to my dear wife Elizabeth,” Cook interrupted. “But alas, not any more. I was simply unable to resist.” John Gore listened wide eyed as the captain told of his passionate romp on the Endeavour’s cabin floor. When he’d finished, he had a new admiration for Cook, who wasn’t as strait-laced and repressed as he’d first imagined.

“So I find myself wanting more,” Cook said when he’d finished.

“Who wouldn’t?” Gore replied, wiping the sweat off his brow. “Sir, if you want my honest advice, savour and enjoy every moment! There is no greater pleasure on Earth, of that I am certain.”

“And what am I to tell my wife? That I have cavorted with another woman? I could never keep such a thing secret. I love her dearly.”

“If you insist on telling her, say you were simply obeying local customs. The culture of this island is wonderful, liberated and unashamed. Definitely preferable to the repressed, buttoned-up attitudes back in England in my opinion. If I were you, and forgive me for saying this, when you do return home to your wife, you should thrill her with the Tahitian way of things.”

“She would be horrified,” Cook stammered, turning redder and his erection throbbing.

“You don’t know until you show her,” Gore grinned. "She may be delighted."

“Yes, well there’s one more thing, Mr Gore. I need you to teach me a little of the Tahitian language, if possible. Sad to say but I don’t even know the name of the lovely woman who came to see me.”

“I will do my best sir,” Gore replied.

“She whispered something to me in her language after we’d…made love. Something that like “maururu, Uua here vau ia oe.” I probably haven’t pronounced that right.” He noticed John Gore was grinning broadly. “Do you understand it?”

“Why yes sir I do! She was telling you that she loved you!”

"This day prov'd as favourable to our purpose as we could wish, not a Cloud was to be seen the whole day and the Air was perfectly clear, so that we had every advantage we could desire in Observing the whole of the passage of the Planet Venus over the Suns disk: we very distinctly saw an Atmosphere or dusky shade round the body of the Planet which very much disturbed the times of the Contacts, particularly the two internal ones. Dr. Solander observed as well as Mr. Green and myself, and we differ'd from one another in observing the times of the Contacts much more than could be expected. Mr Green’s Telescope and mine were of the same Magnifying power but that of Dr was greater than ours."

So wrote James Cook in his journal after the event. However recording the exact moment of the transit of Venus proved to be impossible thanks to what was known as the “black drop effect.”

Cook had a feeling that the Royal Society would be less than pleased with the results and a report that he’d produced. He’d deal with that when the time came and he was back in England. The last few days his crew had been dismantling the fort and loading the ship. Now that the blasted transit was over, his thoughts had turned to another pressing matter, one that needed to be resolved before he and his crew departed for the next stage of their voyage. He had a promise to keep, and tonight, he would see to it that he remained true to his word. Tomorrow the Endeavour would leave Tahiti.

John Gore had been blessed with an extraordinary amount of patience, Cook thought, spending several hours yesterday attempting to teach him the rudiments of the Tahitian language. He’d found it an immense struggle, even pronouncing the simplest phrases. He hoped he’d mastered enough to at least convey what he felt in his heart. Never in his life had he been assaulted by such a strong wave of emotions.

Twilight evaporated in a steam of crimson and purple light. A minute ago, the oncoming night had seemed gracious, and Cook had seen nothing to fear in it. Now it loomed, and nervousness overcame him. The men were removing the last of the tents that had been erected on Fort Venus and loading up the boats.

Cook heard footsteps behind him. “A clear night, isn’t it? Blessed are we to see so many stars.”

“Indeed it is, Mr Gore. A splendid night.”

“Is it nearly time, sir?”

Cook nodded and adjusted his hat. “Yes. I promised I’d meet Maruata on the beach. Really, I can’t help feeling that I am no better than those two Marines, giving into my feelings like this.”

Samuel Gibson and Clement Webb had fallen in love with some native women and had attempted to desert, only to be swiftly recaptured.

Maruata! Her name was as beautiful as he’d imagined it would be. He’d repeated it several times during their second encounter this morning.

“You will be alright on your own sir? Perhaps you should…”

“Thankyou Mr Gore. That won’t be necessary. I shan’t be requiring anyone to accompany me.”

“I understand.”

“Mr Gore. Forgive me if this sounds an absurd question, but do you think it possible for someone to be in love with two people at the same time?”

“Not at all absurd sir. It is most definitely possible.” He glanced at the sky. Damned unsporting of the Almighty to make affairs of the heart so difficult to fathom if you ask me.”

“Hmm, quite. I must go now.” He picked up the lantern.

“Good luck sir,” John Gore replied with a grin.

As he headed out towards the beach, Captain Cook reminisced back to his younger days in Whitby as an eighteen-year old apprentice. He’d lodged in the attic of the household of his master, John Walker. One person who always came to mind was Mary Prowd, one of the servants. The bold and broad-minded Mary developed quite a fancy for the young lodger despite the vast age difference between them. As he studied, she never missed an opportunity to provide him with a generous supply of tallow candles and food. She was an attractive woman, and as the weeks passed she had flirted with him more openly. Cook rolled his eyes as he recalled his teenage self – shy, studious and modest. One night Mary crept into his quarters and made her intentions clear to him – by unfastening the ribbons of her bodice. With the timidity of a deer, he’d just sat there and blushed. Thankfully he’d been a lot more courageous when courting Elizabeth.

She was there, sitting on the rock, waiting for him. A vision of loveliness illuminated by the soft flickering of an oil lamp. The flame in the lamp, which had been steady, flared and writhed, drawn upward by a draft that Cook could not feel. The sight of Maruata’s beautiful face enough on its own to banish all of the cares that assailed him.

“James Cook!” she exclaimed, embracing him tightly before he had a chance to say a word.

“Ia ora oe i teie po,” he replied. Cook reached in his pocket for the velvet box and mumbled that he’d brought her a gift. He still hadn’t really mastered much of the language, despite Gore’s help, but her face lit up upon hearing these words. His pronunciation must’ve sounded strange to her thanks to his broad Yorkshire accent.

He’d purchased the cameo pendant whilst visiting Whitby last year. It was large and ornate, as was the current fashion. Rather stupidly he’d bought it for Elizabeth, only to discover when he returned to his wife in London that it was virtually identical to her current pendant. Not wanting to offer her such a similar gift, he’d bought her a second pendant instead, which she’d adored. Throughout this long voyage, he’d kept this cameo pendant amongst his possessions as a kind of lucky charm, but now he had the opportunity to present it to someone. He produced the box and placed it gently in her hands.

“mauruuru roa!” Maruata gasped as she opened it and observed the pendant closely. “nehenehe.”

He fastened it round her neck. “Yes, beautiful.” Cook smiled. For a moment they just gazed at each other, then she took him by the hand and led him to her living quarters.

Meanwhile, back at the remains of the camp, Joseph Banks remarked on the captain’s disappearance. “I can’t see a blasted thing Mr Gore! Black as ebony out there on the shore and he insisted on going off by himself?”

“Cook knows what he’s doing,” John Gore replied, not giving anything away.

“Hmph, such suspect motives. I don’t see why he can’t wait until dawn before he says farewell to the villagers. At least he’ll be able to see where he’s going.”

“Tahitian feelings bruise easily,” said Gore, thinking quickly to satisfy Banks’ curiosity. “Cook wanted to thank them alone. The people have been most gracious and patient during our stay here. He thought it right to formally thank them.”

Banks accepted this. “As he wishes.”

Inside the small bamboo-clad house, James Cook’s coat fell to the floor, soon to be joined by his hat and waistcoat. Maruata undid his necktie and shirt, and hauled it over his head. He was content to simply stand there and let her warm hands release him from his restrictive uniform; she was greatly amused at the amount of clothing he wore. Cook felt himself sigh as her lips met his and his mouth yielded and her tongue plundered his welcoming territory. This was their last night together and he was determined to savour every moment. He moaned softly against her lips and pressed his firm body against hers. Still kissing, she unfastened her pareu and pulled him down to the floor, which was cushioned with aretu grass and covered with mats. 

Cook trembled with excitement as he removed the garland around her neck and fondled her bare skin. He had to lean back, had to let the flickering lamplight play across her body. Maruata wasted no time in removing his shoes, stockings and breeches, moving forward to excite him with an intimacy that only she had ever performed. She rubbed her hands along his well-developed shoulders, down across his biceps, and back up across his partially hairy chest. She leaned forward and littered his chest with kisses, and stopped at one of his nipples and gave it a delicate lick.

Maruata dropped to the floor and murmured his name in a needy whine, spreading her thighs apart. Unable to resist such an invitation, Cook settled on his stomach between her legs. He drew his tongue along her hot slit then closed his mouth over it to suck up her sweet juices. She gasped, arching her back and the captain began to worship her eagerly, her taste inflaming his want and he growled low. She cried out then, rocking her hips, coming in his mouth.

Cook stared back into those dark brown eyes, continuing to lick up the remainder of her feminine release. He then sat up and began stroking his heated erection as he gazed down at Maruata’s beautiful body. She purred at the sight, sitting up in front of him and wrapping her hand around the base of his shaft. Cook moved his hand to let her stroke him. She quickly took his hard cock in her hands and wrapped her lips around it. Cook knew he wouldn’t last long if she kept doing that. “Oh dear God, more!” he cried. It was a miracle that he hadn’t spent already. The Tahitian beauty stroked his cock with her mouth, stopping occasionally to run her tongue up and down the shaft. She stopped at the base and circled her tongue around his balls, and then returned to vigorously sucking and stroking his shaft, licking up every drop of precum.

She crawled in his lap, straddling him, and continued to pleasure him with her hand as she moved her head to kiss him. The feeling of having her here, in his arms as she jacked him with her hand was intense because her pussy hovered so close to the head of his cock. Moaning, he grasped her ass cheeks, his finger lightly caressing her dripping cleft. Just as that afternoon in the Endeavour’s cabin, her juices were a glorious assault to his senses. Maruata spread her legs and Cook sank his cock deeply into her, pushing upward into her and enjoying the sensation of her tight pussy. They slowly humped together in rhythm, each savouring every sensation. They continued like that, holding each other’s hands and staring into each other’s eyes, Maruata frequently leaning down to kiss him.

“'Auē! James! Uua here vau ia oe.”

This intimate embrace continued until they both shared a deep orgasm, and she collapsed, burying her head in his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her.

“Uua here vau ia oe,” he whispered, knowing that tomorrow he would have to armour his heart.

He recalled the rules he’d given to his crew when they’d first arrived at these islands. “To endeavour by every fair means to cultivate a friendship with the Natives and to treat them with all imaginable humanity.”

***

The Endeavour departed Matavai Bay the following morning. The crew received a fantastic send-off from a friendly and forgiving people, who rowed out en masse in canoes to wave them off. John Gore blew many kisses to the women. He hoped it wouldn’t be too long before he could visit again. He was leaving one of the women with a lot more than just memories – though he wasn’t aware yet, she was pregnant with his child.

James Cook stood on deck and raised his hat in farewell. Maruata was down there, waving furiously at him, proudly sporting the pendant he’d given her. Only John Gore noticed that the captain’s eyes were filled with tears as Endeavour left the paradise of Tahiti behind.


End file.
